


When We’re Together Darling, Every Night is Halloween

by Draco_sollicitus



Series: Short but Sometimes Sweet: Damerey Collection [21]
Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Addams Family, Costume Party, Established Relationship, F/M, Happy Halloween!, I promise no plot, Modern AU, This is absolutely absurd, halloween fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-27 23:13:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16229285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draco_sollicitus/pseuds/Draco_sollicitus
Summary: A man in a chalk-stripe suit and a woman in a black dress arrive at a Halloween party and create some questions with their intense dedication to their costumes.





	When We’re Together Darling, Every Night is Halloween

**Author's Note:**

> ~Happy Seventh Day of Halloween~ (And happy Sinful Sunday!)

A dusting of brittle, brown and dried leaves flitted across a well-kept lawn, illuminated by the frequent opening and closing of the front door, painted a warm and homey brown. Festive partygoers climbed the steps adorned by sweet-faced pumpkins which had swallowed wax and flame and now projected a ghoulishly delightful set of shadows upon the sidewalk.

As Ruth Bader Ginsburgs and phantoms of the opera laughed and strolled in through the door, a lone, black hearse pulled up out front of 2187 Jakku Way. A large figure whose features were thankfully indistinguishable from the safe distance of the front porch emerged from the driver’s seat and opened the side door. A much shorter man wearing a chalk striped suit with wide lapels burst out from the back seat and grinned at the house before remembering himself; with a half-bow, he extended his hand into the back seat, and a pale, freckled hand accepted it. A beautiful, willowy woman in a form-fitting black dress emerged from the hearse and eyed the house with what could only be described as hopeless anticipation.

“My darling,” she purred to her attentive husband. “Do you think we’ll be frightened?”

“We can only hope, querida,” he answered smoothly, lifting her delicate hand to his moustached lip and kissing it with a fervent yet restrained love. “We can only hope.” She hummed in acknowledgement and placed her hand in the crook of his offered elbow. They strolled down the sidewalk, and the man, Poe, called to their driver over his shoulder. “We should be done at eleven, Chewie.” A muted howl met his comment, and those who heard it shivered and then blamed it on the curious chill in the air.

The woman, Rey, smiled at her husband as he rushed to open the gate to the lawn for her. “Thank you, mon cher,” she said, gently dragging the back of her hand against his cheek.

“Cara mia,” he groaned, stumbling after her. “French already? And in _public_?” She smirked at him over her shoulder and continued up the sidewalk, the leaves and the people parting in her path.

The pumpkins beamed at the ethereal goddess as she waited patiently for her husband to open the door. “For you,” he said, sweeping into a low bow while he turned the knob. “My life, my soul – all for you.”

“Halloween brings out the best in you,” Rey complimented him, and he blushed deeply in pleasure. She stepped in the door, and he followed close behind, offering her the crook of his arm once more as they surveyed the party within.

“What’s that music?” Poe wondered aloud, cocking his head at the caterwauling that echoed throughout the house.

“It’s Ariana Grande!” A ghost with a smile painted on its white sheet answered.

“It’s utterly ghastly,” Rey said, staring up at the speakers parked near the staircase. “I love it.” The couple walked further into the house and passed by several people who stared at their clothing. Some found that they almost recognized the guises, but couldn’t quite put a name on the thrill that passed through them upon seeing it.

“Are you the Munsters?” One banker-turned-Frankenstein’s Monster asked.

“No,” Poe said. “But thank you. They’re very frightful.” He hummed to himself, his feet stepping side to side while his wife studied the nearby plants. “Querida, how long has it been since we last waltzed?”

“Oh, Poe,” Rey said, lifting a hand to her brow and heaving a cry. “It’s been _hours._ ”

She took his hand, and they began an elegant and intricate Viennese waltz through the living room. Their movement upended several partygoers, who squawked in protest and lifted their drinks out of the way as the couple stared into each other’s eyes and trampled over everything in their path.

Their host and his girlfriend witnessed the dance from the side of the room where the refreshments had been set up; the former watched them with great affection, and the latter, with more confusion.

“So, um, what’s the story with those two?” The pretty young woman named Rose asked the host.

“Which two?” Finn poured his punch from the lurid orange bowl and smiled at his girlfriend. He straightened out his Revolutionary War era uniform and wondered to himself at which point it would be appropriate for him to steal the microphone from the karaoke room and perform “My Shot,” which he had been practicing for weeks. Rose tilted her head with an expression of obviousness. “Ah. Yeah, Poe and Rey. They uh…they really like Halloween.”

“I can see that,” Rose smiled at them with more warmth than most of the partygoers were able to muster. “They’re really in love, huh.”

“They sure are.” Finn kissed the top of his girlfriend’s head at the same time Poe dipped Rey so low some swore it could damage a spine. Rey straightened up gracefully though, and they continued to dance with exaggerated, passionate intensity. “Oh, hey! That’s not an ashtray!” He excused himself and went to yell at a group of friends of a friend of a friend who had invited themselves in and were now playing with Finn’s favorite mug.

After the waltz had ended, and Poe had been banished from the kitchen for juggling knives, Rey and Poe stood in the corner of the sitting room. Poe sipped on red punch, but Rey had politely refused a cup after hearing it was not truly Blood of the Wolf. A few braver souls were standing with them, and Rey smiled kindly as one girl spoke of her boyfriend, who she had met at Finn’s Halloween party last year.

“The cruellest night of the year,” Poe sighed, his hand clasped to his once-beating heart. “How utterly divine.”

“Do you remember when we first met?” Rey asked him, smoothing a hand down his neck in a way that could hardly be described as publicly decent. Poe leaned in and nodded, his eyes drifting shut in dreadful bliss.

“How could I forget?” Poe smiled dreamily and rested his forehead on hers. “The paramedics had to restart my heart after you stopped it.”

“Oh, that’s…cute?” The Rosie the Riveter next to them offered.

“It was,” Poe agreed, turning his head to smile at her. “You never forget the first time your wife uses arsenic on you.”

“Mmm.” The girl nodded and walked away, but Poe had already gone back to nuzzling his dear heart’s jaw, and didn’t notice.

“I would have married you right then and there, had I still possessed control of my limbs,” he said dreamily. “But ah, I loved you - we loved with a love that was more than love—”

“Darling, your namesake is showing,” Rey’s countenance did not change from the lips at her neck, but she did lift a pale hand to card it through her husband’s black curls.

“You bring out the dead man in me,” Poe declared, kissing down her shoulder, and then her arm, to her hand. “Cara mia.”

“Je t’aimerai pour toujours,” Rey answered, and Poe fell to his knees.

“Rey! That’s _French_!” Poe cried, kissing every inch of her hand, clasped tightly in both of his own. “Oh, querida, you slay me _—_ ”

“Are they okay?” A Ghostbuster stage-whispered to her friend. The unicorn shook his head, and they tiptoed away.

“You kill me, you murder me, you dismember me—”

“You flatter me, mon mari.”

Poe surged to his feet and pulled his wife close. “Do you think – my dearest heart, could we _survive_ until the clock strikes eleven?” They swayed together from the passion of their embrace.

“No,” Rey shook her head slowly and calmly, her eyes sparking with some long-controlled phantasm of seduction. “No, I think not, mon cher.”

“Cara mia.” He kissed her, groaning, and his hands roamed over her slender frame. They parted with a gasp, and Poe glowered at the clock, whose hour hand had the audacity to point at the mere number of ten. “Shall we call for Chewbacca, then?”

“Do you guys need me to, uh…call an Uber?” A concerned bystander asked.

“An _uber_?” Poe furrowed his brow as he considered. “An uber- _what_?” The man held up his phone with the app blinking on it, and Poe shook his head. “No, no, we shall walk home.”

“Be careful!” The man shouted at their retreating forms as they swiftly headed for the door. “There might be some shady characters out!”

“Oh, how wonderful,” Rey sighed, her lashes fluttering with hope. “If we could be so lucky.”

Their walk home was punctuated with frequent declarations of violent love by Poe, and Rey accepted it with as calm a demeanor as ever. The streets were now empty of trick-or-treaters, and the moon shone through wisps of cloud here and there, casting an eerie yet entrancing light on the face of the beautiful woman. Their walk was not a long one, as they only lived a few blocks over from Finn, their new friend whom they had met at a recent funeral. Soon, they arrived at their wrought-iron gate, and Poe opened it, sighing in contentment at the screech of rusted metal.

“Shall we retire to bed, querida?” Poe questioned his wife as they walked up the steps.

“Not the playroom?” Rey asked with a teasing gleam in her hazel eyes, which glowed despite the lack of light.

“We can play in the bedroom, can we not?” Poe asked in a low murmur, his hand going to the fearsome gargoyle that served as their knocker. With one rap, the door swung open, and Chewbacca greeted them with a frustrated howl. “We didn’t want to bother you, old chap.” Poe clapped the beast on the arm and grinned at him, and Rey swept past to tend to her vase.

“The flowers at the party were…pink, I suppose,” Rey allowed graciously. “But I did miss my own pretties very much.” She fixed the dried and headless stems while humming the song that had been playing at the party whilst she had danced with her husband. “Did you feed Thing-8?” She asked Chewbacca, hearing an ominous rattling noise from upstairs.

Their butler grumbled in confirmation, and Rey lifted a single, perfectly formed eyebrow as an angry chortle echoed down the stairs. Chewbacca threw his hands in the air and howled again before storming off to his quarters.

“If you feed our darling, I’ll wait for you in our room,” Rey said, cupping Poe’s face tenderly. He grasped her wrist and pressed kisses into the skin there, dragging his lips down her forearm, pushing the fabric of her sleeve out of his way as he went. “Now, if you please, Poe.” He nodded and sprinted up the stairs to where Thing-8 lurked. Rey ascended much more slowly, her expression unwavering even as her heart thundered in excitement.

Poe entered their bedchamber roughly a quarter of an hour later, slightly bruised and out of breath after handling Thing-8 and convincing it to eat its meal, and not its beloved owner. He groaned in ecstasy, the door rattling shut behind him while he leaned against it and took in the delicious view that awaited him.

Rey sprawled back luxuriously on their black satin sheets, wearing naught but her bra and garter belt, her legs spread wide, and her arms draped over their pillows. “You’ve kept me waiting,” she said primly.

“Forgive me,” Poe begged, loosening his tie while staring at her. “I am not worthy, forgive me—”

“Make it up to me,” Rey conceded, and Poe nodded, rushing to the bed after pulling his belt free and throwing his suit jacket across the room. He clambered on their bed and kissed her foot, and then the other, her shin, and then the other, her thigh, and then the other. Soon, he was entirely over her, and her hands framed his handsome face. Rey crooned in satisfaction when he lowered his lips to hers in a fierce and loving kiss. “You were the most handsome man at the party tonight,” she sighed in jealous wonderment. “My Poe.”

“My life and my bride,” Poe groaned, kissing her neck with ravenous bites. “My darling – _my darling—_ ”

“Mon monstre,” Rey sighed with delight, and her husband sat up and divested himself of his shirt and pants. “Possess me, devour me—”

“It would be my pleasure.” He lowered himself to her sex and lapped at it graciously. Rey keened, and her eyes rolled back into her head at the dutiful way her husband applied himself to his task. “Your pleasure is my pleasure,” he added, once he had coaxed her to completion. It was an adaptation of another one of his mantras in this room – _his pain was her pleasure._ But that was not their goal tonight. No, tonight she had asked _him_ to—as if he _deserved_ to—

“Poe,” Rey murmured, her leg still hooked over his muscular shoulder. “I can hear you thinking. Grovel later, mon cher. Now, please. _Je ne peux pas vivre sans toi._ ”

“You fight dirty,” Poe said admiringly, his hand firm on her silk-smooth thigh as he ran his palm along the length of it, coming to a gripping rest on her hipbone. “You know I cannot control myself when you speak to me in that language, querida.”

“Don’t control yourself then,” Rey said, knowing full well what it would inspire in her loving husband.

With a thunderous groan, he aligned himself to her still-weeping cunt, swollen from his mouth, and thrust inside with one delirious push. His pace was brutal, his eyes maddened, as he chased their mutual pleasure with a frenzy Rey delighted in.

“You animal,” she praised him when he hooked her leg around his waist and drove in with wild abandon. “You absolute _madman_.”

He sang to her in Spanish and English and Latin and words unknown while his cock stoked a fire in her belly. Poe stared at his wife, his mouth hanging open, as she closed her eyes in terrible bliss, watched her perfect breasts heave with each movement, studied the way his hands gripped her and held her so tightly he swore that the cosmos was finally allowing them to become one being, one spirit.

When she clenched around him, her voice raised above its usual throaty whisper in a groan of his name, Poe’s head sank to her pale shoulder, and his hips stilled in their once-rapid worship of her body. With a reluctant groan, he pulled away from her and lay down next to her on the four-poster bed.

“I need to tell you something,” Rey said in the post-coital silence. Poe rested his head on his hand and stroked a hand along her bare hip and thigh once more.

“Yes?” He murmured, less verbose than normal right after their spectacular finish.

“I wanted to wait for a special occasion…” Rey stretched out over the pillows luxuriously and smirked at her husband. “And I can’t think of one more special than this night.”

“What do you want to tell me?” Poe curled his body around hers and kissed her shoulder while he waited.

“We will soon have to convert the next room for a guest,” Rey said, her hand drifting to her stomach. “One who I am sure will be with us for quite some time.”

“A guest?” Poe’s brow furrowed as he thought to himself. “Is Leia coming to town?”

“No, mon cher,” Rey took his hand gently and placed it on her stomach. “It is no one we know. At least, not yet.”

“Oh?” Poe stared at where their hands were clasped on her bare abdomen, and then gasped. “Oh! Is it true? Could it be true?”

“It is,” Rey smiled with a terrifying grace at him, and Poe lowered his head to their clasped hands and began to weep in feverish joy. “Our own little monster.”

“Querida,” Poe rained kisses upon her body and worked his way up to the swell of her magnificent breasts, continuing to her neck. His body hovered over hers as his eyes devoured her, and Rey basked in the hungered attention. “May I have you again? This is so sublime, so wonderful –”

“You may have me,” Rey graciously allowed. “But only if you act as a madman once more. I prefer you unhinged.”

“ _Cara mia_ ,” he breathed, and lowered himself to her in ardent devotion.

**Author's Note:**

> ;)
> 
>  
> 
> thanks to aimmyarrowshigh who convinced me they shouldn't even be wearing costumes, they should just actually be Morticia and Gomez Addams.


End file.
